


weight of mistakes

by lynne_monstr



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Magnus is a survivor and a badass, Making Up, Post-Episode: s02e12 You Are Not Your Own, Post-Episode: s02e13 Those of Demon Blood, discussion of past atrocities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/pseuds/lynne_monstr
Summary: “They used to hunt us for sport, you know.”It’s the last thing Alec expects to hear in the protracted silence after their lovemaking. He can still feel the echoes of Magnus’ lips on his skin, although the hum of satisfaction has faded from his body.(Or, Magnus regales Alec with an ugly tidbit from his past after their fight about the strand of Magnus' hair.)
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 17
Kudos: 369





	weight of mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> At the end of 2x13 Alec tells Magnus that he never has to prove himself to him. That scene never sat right with me because it doesn't address what their fight was actually about.
> 
> I don't claim to fully address it in this fic but there was a specific historical parallel I wanted to focus on, so here we are.  
.
> 
> This was originally posted on tumblr for Writer's Month Day 7: Sports

“They used to hunt us for sport, you know.”

It’s the last thing Alec expects to hear in the protracted silence after their lovemaking. He can still feel the echoes of Magnus’ lips on his skin, although the hum of satisfaction has faded from his body. Around them, the room is dark. Alec can’t make out the details of Magnus’ face, can’t try to glean any additional meaning from his strange words.

To say he’s taken aback is an understatement.

He recovers in an instant. The benefits of Shadowhunter training.

“They?” Alec asks, though the question is unnecessary. The sick feeling in his stomach is all the answer he needs. Isabelle had told him about her conversation with Raphael, what he’d said about the bloody history between the Nephilim and the Downworld.

Magnus continues as if Alec hasn’t spoken. “Any time a group of us would gather in one place too long was a risk. By the time we caught sight of the first one, it was too late.” His arm is slung across Alec’s chest, his face buried against Alec’s deflect rune. It makes his voice sound adorably muffled but Alec hears every word like a brand seared into his skin, as painful as any rune.

“Magnus, I—” What can Alec even say that isn't some trite apology. The words die on his tongue, but Magnus barely seems to notice.

“This was before the invention of the portal. There was nowhere for us to run. The only choices were to fight or to die.” Alec can feel more than hear the laugh that claws itself from Magnus’ throat. “Most of us did both.

“I was laying an ambush for a group of them that had me cornered. I could hear them talking, _laughing_, while they took the marks of dead warlocks. They called it a training exercise.”

Alec wraps his arm tighter around Magnus’ bare back, relieved when the touch isn’t rejected. He’s heard the histories, of course. Every young Shadowhunter has. From the time before the Accords and, as Alec now suspects, from times after it as well.

He’s read Magnus’ file from cover to cover but doesn’t recall reading anything about Magnus being caught up in the raids. There’s only one explanation for why. “You killed them.” It’s not a question.

“I did.” Magnus lifts his head and in the darkness his eyes seem to glow an even brighter gold than usual. His gaze is as sharp as any seraph blade. “Every last one.”

Beneath the ancient rage is something else: pride. It strikes Alec that Magnus has never looked more like a High Warlock, despite being naked and cuddling Alec’s chest beneath silk sheets.

Magnus smiles and it’s full of teeth. “I enjoyed it.” He pauses to let the words sink in. “Still care to share my bed, Alexander?”

“Why are you telling me this?” Alec finally asks. He knows Magnus well enough to realize that he’s not just trying to scare Alec off with sordid tales. He’s not even trying to disgust Alec, not really. There’s a point here, somewhere underneath the horror of what he’s describing.

The fight goes out of Magnus’ gaze even as his body tenses in Alec’s arms. “When you asked me earlier for a strand of my hair—” Magnus pats Alec’s chest before he can interrupt. “I know you apologized and I know you meant it. But what you need to understand is that warlocks have long memories. Those hunts were centuries ago but they may as well have been last year for those of us who lived through them. A strand of hair isn’t quite the same as a warlock mark but it isn’t all that different either.“

Alec closes his eyes. It only makes him more aware of Magnus draped across his chest.

A surge of shame expands like lead in his chest, hot and heavy and stifling. How can Magnus even stand to touch him? He had regretted blindly following Inquisitor Herondale’s orders even as he’d been doing it. The same way he regretted nearly executing Valentine despite his pleas that he was actually Magnus, despite the intimate knowledge of their life he used to back up those claims.

No matter what he does, no matter how many ways he tries not to mess up the same way twice, he still manages to fail. He refused to listen to Magnus during the bodyswap because he knew Valentine was untrustworthy. Was it any surprise that he jumped at the chance to exonerate Magnus upfront with a strand of hair? And yet he was still wrong. Still blindly following orders in the end.

Will he ever stop making the same mistakes?

Magnus’ words bring him back to the present. “I’m telling you this because I want you to understand. Not just as my boyfriend, though that’s certainly a part of it, but also as the Head of the New York Institute.”

Alec can feel the burning behind his closed eyes and squeezes them tighter. “I’m going to do better,” he whispers. He isn’t sure if he’s speaking to himself or to Magnus.

He feels a kiss pressed against his cheek and opens his eyes to see Magnus smiling at him, a little bit soft and a little bit sad. Magnus tucks his head beneath Alec’s chin. “I know,” he says. “The New York Institute couldn’t ask for a better leader. I truly believe that.”

Alec isn’t sure _he_ believes it. Not yet. The weight of his mistakes is still too raw. But underneath the ache, the beginnings of something warm settles in Alec’s chest.

Or maybe it’s just Magnus’ hand over his heart, steady and grounding.

He may not be there yet, but he’s never going to stop trying.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come chat at me!. I'm on [tumblr](https://lynne-monstr.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/LynneMonstr)


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